Desire
by skysedge
Summary: Desire. A strong craving, worthy or unworthy. A dangerous emotion that can lead to obsession and insanity. For Riff and Cassian, both consumed by the desire to regain what was lost, death is just the beginning. RiffxCain, CassianxJizabel. Rating elevates. [Indefinite hiatus]
1. Pulse & Memory

**A/N** _First things first, in case anybody is freaking out...yes, this story will be focussed around Riff and Cassian but I am __**not**__ slashing them together, in any way, shape or form. As mentioned, the pairings are __**RiffxCain **__and __**CassianxJizabel**__. Both are important to the plot, although there will be more of the former than the latter to start with._

_Secondly.....hello! At last, here this story is. It's been in the works for a while and I am excited to get it started. To those of you who have grown used to my JizabelxCassian fics, expect a more angsty and unstable Cassian than usual. To those of you who like my older CainxRiff fics and have been waiting for an update forever...I'm sorry for keeping you so long! I recently fell back in love with the pairing. _

_**Warning: **__This story takes place AFTER volume 8 so if you haven't read to the end of the series, this will spoil it for you. The rating of this fic will elevate in later chapters._

_**Note:**__ I am taking a lot of liberties with this, Ms Yuki never told us how deadly dolls really work, nor much about the inner workings of Delilah. I am going out on a limb but have tried to keep it believable. _

_**DISCLAIMER: **__The Cain Saga belongs to Kaori Yuki and her publishers. I am making no money from this story. This story inspired by a great variety of songs by Poets of the Fall – lyrics at the start of this chapter from 'Desire'. _

_-x-_

_A false sincerity,_

_A liar and a thief, _

_My pulse and memory, _

_A comfort within grief._

-x-

His dreams were cold. Cold and dark and deep.

He felt as though he was swimming through an icy lake, the pressure of the water pushing in on him from all sides at once, taking his breath and crushing all his movements. Half-formed shapes swam in and out of his vision, silvery-grey and distorted. He saw corridors, endless corridors and winding stairs. Faces appeared before him to vanish before he could recognise them, eyes wide with fear and mouths open in silent yet agonising moans. He could taste blood in his mouth, the metallic bitterness coating his tongue and teeth like oil.

Suddenly, one face became prominent in his vision, appearing sharper and more defined than the other apparitions that plagued him. This face was young and beautiful, and it was smiling strangely despite all the chaos around it. As he focussed, the eyes of the face before him became suddenly crystal clear and he was faced with a pair of golden eyes, filled with some inner light that fought the darkness and the cold surrounding them.

Staring at the golden eyes in the vast sea of oblivion, he felt a sudden thrill of fear and thrashed around, trying to surface. There was somewhere he had to be. Someone he had to be with.

Golden eyes...

Cain.

-x-

"Cain!"

Riff's eyes slammed open and he jerked as though trying to sit up but fell back again quickly. There was a great splashing noise and Riff realised he must be lying in some kind of liquid; he could feel it lapping around his shoulders and feet. He stared wildly in front of him and saw a high vaulted ceiling shrouded in darkness and hung with cobwebs. Looking to the sides, he saw that he was lying in some kind of metal container that prevented him from seeing what sort of place he was in. He tried to move his arms frantically but found them to be secured to the bottom of the container by his wrists and the same for his feet by the ankles. He raised his head a little but could barely move that either, since whenever he tried a wave of nausea and disorientation swept over him.

Panic seized a hold over him and he began to thrash about wildly. He had to get out of this place, wherever it was. He didn't remember why, but he knew he had to find Cain as soon as possible. Accepting that he couldn't pull himself free, Riff tried another course of action.

"Lord Cain!" he called again, voice hoarse and cracked. In the silence that immediately followed his cry, Riff heard a short, scornful laugh echo around the room. The quality of the light changed as though someone was walking past a lamp or candle that helped to light the room.

"Honestly," someone said in a soft and dangerous voice. "I had been wondering whether that was the first thing you would say when you woke up but for it to actually happen...it's so _cliché_."

"Where is he?" Riff asked, beginning to thrash again in his efforts to see the speaker. "I have to see him!"

Another laugh, followed by "Oh, I don't think you'd want to see him right now, not as he is. Trust me on this."

The light shifted some more as the speaker circled the container and Riff could feel hidden eyes watching him carefully. He pulled against his restraints until he felt them cutting into his skin, but his usual strength was not there and he felt weak and drained.

"Stop that," the speaker said sharply, tapping on the side of the container which gave a metallic tang. "You'll damage yourself if you keep that up."

Riff grudgingly stopped his thrashing and strained to see the speaker, which was when he finally got a look at himself. He was naked, lying in a metal container just large enough for him to lie in without touching the sides. The container was filled with liquid which splashed as he moved. It felt heavier than water, thicker, as though it was resisting moving aside when Riff moved his fingers. A splash of liquid had landed o his bare chest while he had been thrashing and was now slowly trickling down his side and back into the container. In the flickering, dim light of the room, it left a black smear.

Eyes widening, Riff felt fear sweep through him. What kind of place was this? What had happened to him? He tried to remember how he had arrived here but his memory was dark and clouded and he found it difficult to distinguish between recent memories and those from a long time past.

"Don't look like that," the speaker said suddenly, breaking through Riff's thoughts. "Yes, it's blood. Don't do anything stupid. It might be blood but without it, you wouldn't be hearing me right now. I didn't think you'd be so surprised, to be honest with you. It's not like it's your first time in one of these things now, is it? Though I guess it's less refined than you're used to. I'm not an engineer, after all."

The speaker finally came into Riff's view, leaning over the edge of the container by his feet. A handsome yet weary face looked back at him, with sharply defined cheekbones and unruly brown hair that was slightly too long to be acceptable in society. The speaker's eyes were sharp and glittered with a disconcerting intensity as he watched Riff. One of the hands curling over the lip of the tub had a thin scar running across the back.

"I know your face," Riff said with difficulty, battling with the tangled mess of his memories and failing to find a name. "Who are you? What have you done to me?"

The man smiled without humour and clicked his tongue. "You are in no position to be questioning me...but I will answer you. In time. First of all, I have to make a few checks. What's your name?"

"Riff," the pale-haired butler answered promptly, if suspiciously. "Riff Raffit."

"Good," the man replied. "Your memories seem to be coming back fine. You should be feeling a little confused right now, but that will wear off. What's the last thing you remember?"

Riff frowned and closed his eyes in order to access his memories more effectively. Despite his fear, he felt it best to comply with this man's wishes, at least until he knew what was going on. Something in the strangers eyes wasn't right, he looked unstable but not evil or malicious. As Riff fought against the sea of jumbled memories, one swam to the surface. He could see a carriage. Beside the carriage there stood a slender man with silvery hair. Behind him was...

"I remember betraying Lord Cain," he said in a stricken voice. "I...no, I remember _Riffael_ betraying Lord Cain."

"Well done," the stranger said, urging him on. "What else?"

"It...it's muddled after that. There are glimpses of...people. People wearing masks. Blood. A balcony..." He nodded to himself as things became clearer. "I remember meeting Lord Cain again. My arm..." He glanced down at himself to see his arm in perfect working order, not the skeletal horror his memory was showing him. "How..."

"What next?" The speaker urged. "Don't get distracted."

Riff closed his eyes again. "I fell," he said slowly. "I fell and...the doctor was there. He was injured, but...he gave his life to give me more time." Riff shuddered at the memory of warm blood covering his face and upper body. "Then...someone carried him away. They-"

In his mind's eye, Riff saw a pale hand clutching onto the doctor, a pale hand with a small scar running down the back. His eyes slammed open again and he saw the speaker smiling at him in amusement.

"You were there," he said in an accusatory tone. "Who are you?"

"I'm glad you remember me, Riff," the man said slowly. "But who I am doesn't matter. I'm not important. Carry on telling me what happened."

Riff narrowed his eyes suspiciously but did as he was told.

"I went to find Cain. He was by himself like he was as a child. We...the building!" he cried suddenly. "The building began to collapse! The window smashed and...we...we..."

The man at the end of the container nodded. "Yes. You died. Well done, it appears you remember everything, and not just your own memories, am I right? You seem to remember Riffael's actions too. Excellent."

He moved around the container until he was standing directly beside Riff, looking down into his face.

"Time to answer one of your questions. What have I done to you? I suppose you've figured that out by now, right? You're a smart guy Riff. I brought you back from the dead."

"How?" Riff asked shakily, wishing that this was all just a strange hallucination but knowing that it was the truth. He could remember the pain of the glass entering his body and the darkness clouding his vision. He became suddenly angry. "If you brought me back, where is Lord Cain? Why isn't he here too?"

The man bit his lip for a moment before replying. "It's complicated. I didn't know if I could to do it, to tell you the truth. You've been a deadly doll for years yes? Even though you didn't know it. You've been dead for a long time, whether you like it or not. Because of that, it wasn't too difficult to bring you back. But the Earl..." His eyes lit up with sudden inspiration. "Okay, think of it like this. Think of a clock. When the clock is built, the clockmaker needs to make sure every gear and every cog is the right size and in just the right position. Without a detailed plan or experience, he could not make that clock work. Now, imagine you're given a clock that's already been built but has simply run down. All you need to do to make that one work is find the key to wind it back up again. You follow?"

Riff nodded shakily. "You found the key to wind me back up?" he said slowly.

"Well, not literally, but that's pretty much it," he replied. "The Earl on the other hand, is like a whole pile of gears and cogs without a plan to follow. I don't know how to bring him back," he paused and turned suddenly serious eyes on Riff. "But I can find out," he said softly. "With your help, I can bring your beloved Earl back for you. Will you help me?"

Riff's eyes widened and he lay still for a moment, mind whirling. He was utterly confused and lost upon a sea of emotions. He was suspicious and disbelieving of the whole situation, half convinced he was dreaming but he was also terrified for his safety and that of his master. Cain...if this man was speaking the truth, could Cain be brought back from the dead? Riff felt a vague surge of hope within him and then frowned again. Would that be the right thing to do, after all?

The whole situation was insane. He was lying in a pool of blood of unknown origin, in a dark room that could be anywhere, with a person who could be practically anyone. Riff had no idea what to think, but the need to ensure Cain's safety cut through every other emotion.

"I can see you need some time to think, huh?" the man said and clapped his hands, suddenly businesslike. "Okay, let's get you out of this thing. Don't move."

He reached into the container and swiftly released Riff from his restraints, soaking his forearms in blood. Next, Riff felt a sharp stab of pain from his inner thigh and looked down in shock. The man withdrew his arm from the horrifying pool holding a small tube. Catching Riff's questioning gaze, he shrugged.

"They're used to pump the blood into your body and regenerate your cells," he said quickly. "It's just how they used to regenerate you before, except Delilah's machine was larger, faster, more efficient and allowed you to stand up. As I said, I'm not an engineer. I did the best I could."

Riff nodded and braced himself as at least six other tubes were pulled from various part of his body. The pain was sharp, but bearable. Once they had been removed, the man helped Riff climb out of the container and stagger over to a battered armchair which he sank into awkwardly.

The cold air of the room hit him in waves and he began shivering uncontrollably, his large frame wracked with tremors. The other man left him for a moment and he sat feeling very weak, scared and vulnerable, rivulets of blood running from his pale skin to soak into the fabric of the old armchair. He surveyed his surroundings to try to distract himself from the cold. The room was large and circular in shape, the ceiling high and the floor covered in tiles. The walls were lined with frayed and dusty curtains and the floor covered in old rugs and chairs along with a few tables. Every table top was covered in small gas lamps which illuminated the room just enough to see. Riff got the impression that the room had once been important and full of people, but had now been commandeered and taken over. As he thought this, the stranger returned from a corner of the room and handed Riff some blankets which he gladly wrapped himself in.

"Where are we?" he asked quietly.

"Delilah's headquarters," the stranger replied. "What's left of it. We're the only ones here now. Have you had enough time to think about my proposition yet?"

Riff shook his head nervously and opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

"Decide quickly. I can't hold on any longer, definitely not to wait for you to question your morals. It doesn't _matter_. If you don't make up your mind now, I have no use for you or the Earl." His eyes narrowed. "Neither of you will see the daylight again if you don't help me," he threatened.

Riff stalled a little longer, curiosity taking over. "How much time has passed?"

"It's been just over a year since the fall of Delilah. I can't wait any longer than this."

Riff gaped, mind reeling. A year? He had been dead for a year? He shook his head to rid sudden images of decay and waste, seeing instead the calm smile of his master just before the end, golden eyes shining with warmth and light...hope.

He bit his lip and nodded slowly. His captor was right, it didn't matter whether agreeing to revive Cain was right or wrong – a world without his master was a world that was not worth living in, and now he was breathing Riff did not want to lose his life again. He would be helping to turn Cain into a monster, he realised. But perhaps...perhaps he wouldn't mind. He was too young to be dead, too young to have no future. With this in mind, Riff nodded more confidently.

"I'll help you," he said slowly, "If you promise me that you won't be using my master for any further experiments. I would rather live without him than see him become a tool of Delilah."

The stranger laughed. "Of course. Riff, I'm _not_ working for Delilah. Not anymore. They barely even exist anymore. And I promise that if we manage to revive the Earl, he's yours. If the procedure works, I won't need either of you anymore and you'll be free to go."

"Then why are you doing this?" Riff asked suspiciously.

"That's something that you don't need to know," the man said quietly and then held out a hand. "So, we agree? You'll help me?"

Riff nodded and took the bloodstained hand in his own. "What can I call you? I don't recall your name."

The man shrugged. "I doubt you ever heard my name more than once or twice. The first time we met...let's just say you wouldn't recognise me now. The last time, you were preoccupied by finding the Earl. Riffael wouldn't have known me either, I joined the organisation after he was sent to work for the Earl and had left by the time he returned. I told you, I'm unimportant."

"That may be," Riff said slowly. "But you brought me back and you're giving me a chance to save my master. That makes you very important, in my eyes. If I'm going to help you, I need to have a name to call you by."

A moment of silence passed and the man finally sighed and raised his hands in defeat.

"Fine. I planned on keeping everything secret but you know what? I think I can trust you. As long as I have Cain, you'll be loyal to be, won't you?"

Riff blanched at this unhappy truth. "I suppose I have to be."

"In that case, Riff," the man continued, standing up and taking a mocking bow. "You can call me Cassian. Are you ready to help me?"

The name struck a chord in his memory and he vaguely remembered Doctor Disraeli speaking it during his final moments. Riff knew that Cassia had saved him and was offering him a wonderful chance, but he was afraid. Cassian's eyes unnerved him, and the man seemed to fluctuate between emotions with unusual rapidity. And Riff still didn't know _why_ Cassian was helping him. What was in it for him?

Pushing his doubts aside and focussing only on the memory of Cain's soft smile, Riff nodded.

"What do you need from me?" he asked.

-x-

_**A/N **__I hope that wasn't too confusing. This is somewhat of a mystery on Cassian's side, but you will find out everything soon enough. Please click that little green button and leave me a review! I want to know how you feel about this as a beginning, where you think it's going to go, whether you hated it, even! I just want to hear from you. I respond to all my reviews so you won't be ignored!_

_Oh, and final note: I WILL be finishing __**Sacrificial Lamb, **__I am just stuck on the damn last chapter at the moment. _

_Thanks for reading! 3_


	2. Mayfair

**A/N ** - _Oh gods, this took forever to write. Many apologies to you all but life has been more than a little insane recently and for some reason this fic was always put back. Finally, the next chapter is here and it seems the story will be much longer than I had anticipated. _

_**Thanks and biscuits to**__: Savvi-Sin, Katestar98, SunilaMoon, MorbidBirdy, StillReading,Kate, TukiMiyu26 and whichever guest left one for the wonderful reviews. Thanks for telling me this concept makes sense as I myself am usually sceptical of post-series stories._

_-x-_

_I'll seek you out__  
__Just to find myself_

_-x-_

There was a loud crash as a glass was thrown against a wall, the shards shooting into the air and catching the light of the gas lamps. They shone like tiny comets in the gloom.

"Come on!" Cassian shouted, before spinning back around to face Riff. The silver haired man was sitting on the edge of a large armchair and had flinched when the glass shattered.

"I can't," he said in as calm a voice as he could manage. "I've already told you that."

"There is no such word as 'can't', Riff," Cassian said, tone now verging on manic cheerfulness. "Nothing is impossible. Now _tell me what you remember_."

Riff sighed and lowered his eyes to the floor. It had been like this since he had woken up several hours earlier. The night before, he had been shown to a relatively comfortable room for sleep and not pressured into doing anything. The moment he had woken up, he had stumbled into the main room to find Cassian waiting for him, eyes bright and eager. He wanted Riff to recall details of conversations he had heard while Riffael was in charge and Riff was hesitant to even try to do so.

"I don't remember anything," he said again. "I want to help but-"

"You _can_ remember," Cassian cut in. "I know you can. When you woke up yesterday you said you could remember betraying the Earl which means you have access to his memories. All you have to do is _try_. If you can't even do this, we've failed before we've begun."

Riff watched as Cassian moved to sit at a low table which stood where the container had been the night before. Dark eyes were watching him in expectation. Riff opening his mouth to repeat himself once again but Cassian beat him to it.

"I'm not asking you to remember anything terrible," he said softly. "I just need to know if Alexis ever mentioned a box. Or a file. Something like that."

Riff glanced at Cassian's face and bit his lip. A change had come over the man, all the anger had drained away and he looked weary. Riff wondered what troubles Cassian had faced to make him seem so sorrowful without realising that his own expression was similar. He knew he wasn't being asked to remember the crimes Riffael had certainly committed but Riff was scared to even think about that side of himself whether it was dead or not. It may have been a year but to him the pain was too fresh, the guilt too raw. Whenever he closed his eyes he could see the blood dripping on the floor as Cain ripped out his earring, acting defiant while feeling such pain.

"Riff."

He looked up into dark eyes showing the first glimmer of kindness since he had awoken.

"You're not the only one to have lost someone," Cassian said softly. "Now please try and remember. If not for me, then for the Earl."

Riff sighed and nodded, knowing the argument was over. He would do anything if he was doing it for Cain. He closed his eyes and sought through his memory for Alexis, on the basis that he didn't have too many memories of the man himself, not recent ones. As he thought back, it felt to him as though he was swimming through a thick, black fog that filled his mind. He could see his own decaying hand wrapped around Cain's neck and pushed further back urgently, not wanting to relive that moment. He saw himself slashing a neat line through the eyes of a woman in black. Justice, that had been her name. He continued forcing his way back, shuddering as he remembered words passing his lips that had never been his own and searching for something useful.

Still leaning on the table, Cassian watched anxiously, arms crossed over his chest. The fingers of one hand drummed against the opposite arm and he chewed on his lip absently. He stared at Riff with wide eyes as though standing on the edge of a precipice that could be thrilling or fatal while afraid to look back. Riff began shaking his head silently, his memory evidently revealing nothing.

"How about a safehouse?" Cassian prompted. "A ledger? There has to be something...perhaps an informant?"

Riff began to shake his head again but suddenly stopped as a memory presented itself to him. He saw Alexis holding out a slip of paper.

_If I am ever incapacitated, I will need you to go to this woman and tell her my name. _

_For what purpose?_

_You'll see. _

A name was written on the paper and Riffael had dutifully memorised it before burning it as per instructions.

_Who is she?_ he had asked.

"An informant," Riff murmured, opening his eyes. "Yes. There was one. Emma Morgan."

Riff was startled as Cassian gave a sudden cry of triumph and rushed to the other side of the table where a sheet of paper and a pencil lay. He hurriedly scribbled the name down.

"What did he say about her?" he asked eagerly.

"Not much," Riff admitted and recounted the details of the memory as accurately as he could manage. When he had finished, Cassian was practically beaming at him.

"Excellent," he said. "That's great. It sounds like exactly the sort of thing I was looking for." He gave a deep sigh. "Thank god. I was starting to worry I had deluded myself into believing something that wasn't real."

"Good," Riff said vaguely. "Now would you mind telling me just what this is about? You still haven't explained. Who is Emma Morgan?"

Cassian looked up from where he had been staring into a corner and frowned.

"Haven't I?" he said, with such honesty that Riff was inclined to belief it had truly slipped his mind. "Sorry. Well, I don't know who this woman is but it sounds like she's looking after something for Alexis. There was a rumour among the Trump Cards that the Cardmaster had some secret box or file somewhere that held records of every member of Delilah. You know, their real names, aliases, residences, that sort of thing, in case they needed to be tracked down."

Cassian's voice had grown louder as he spoke and the words flowed quickly as he voiced an idea he had apparently been keeping silent for a long time. He began to pace the room.

"I figured that he wouldn't be able to keep it totally secret because what would happen if he was locked up somewhere? I know it wasn't likely but he wouldn't leave it to chance. So, if he was to tell anyone I reckoned he'd tell The Tower. Someone powerful and untouchable with no morality whatsoever. And he was locked away inside _your_ mind most of the time to boot. It made _sense_."

He paused again and shot Riff a fleeting grin.

"I'm glad I was right."

A little stunned by such a confession after so much secrecy, Riff could only nod and answer with,

"So am I. So what do we do now?"

Cassian grinned. "Research. Come on. No rest for the wicked."

-x-

The next afternoon, Riff found himself sitting beside Cassian in a stagecoach headed towards a townhouse owned by one Lady Morgan in Mayfair. When he had questioned Cassian as to where the money for the coach had come from he had been met with stony silence and so decided not to ask where the disguises had come from either.

Riff's outfit was less of a disguise than it could have been and he felt comfortable wearing it, if a little false. That morning, Cassian had presented him with a decent suit not unlike a butler's uniform and other than being a little short in the limbs, it suited him. Riff glanced at Cassian out of the corner of his eye. The man seemed completely transformed, at least in outer appearance. His unruly chestnut hair had been combed down as flat as it would go and he was dressed in an expensive looking suit, complete with a cane. He had reminded Riff of someone but the butler had been unable to work out who as before leaving the headquarters, Cassian had pulled a brimmed cap down low over his face. He stared out of the window quietly as the coach rattled through the city.

They reached their destination after a fairly short ride which cost more than Riff had been expecting and walked up to the front door side by side, looking for all the world like a gentleman and his business associate.

"Don't get in the way," Cassian said quietly as he raised a hand to swing the golden doorknocker. "I know how to handle this."

Riff nodded silently although he felt uneasy. He had no idea what Cassian was planning to do but was determined to play along if he had to. The door was opened after a few moments by an elderly butler who showed them into the small parlour upon request without asking them any questions. Once they were standing in the small room, he bowed his way out to fetch Lady Morgan. Riff looked around nervously. Nearly every flat surface in the room was covered in picture frames and he raised his eyes to see the walls were similarly covered. All the pictures and paintings were of the same style and he realised they were likely drawn by the Lady herself. He looked closer at one of the pictures and gasped despite himself.

"Cassian!"

"I know." The reply was softly spoken but the tone was dangerous. "It's sickening,"

The door swung open as the words left Cassian's lips and Riff turned his eyes towards the woman in the doorway, trying to ignore the fact that he was surrounded by lovingly crafted pictures of Alexis Hargreaves.

"Hello," Lady Morgan said, shutting the door behind her and smiling sweetly at them. "Who is this that's visiting me so unexpectedly?"

She was a pleasant looking lady, Riff realised looking her up and down, not the kind of person he would expect to have links to Alexis. Her long hair was fading to grey at the roots and her skin showed the first hints of wrinkles. Riff caught a flicker of expression in her deep-set eyes. She seemed disappointed.

"Sorry for the intrusion, my lady," Cassian said, restraining the normal common lilt to his words. "We're here on business."

She frowned and pursed her pale lips. "I don't recall having any business matters unsettled...who are you representing?"

Cassian shot Riff a warning glance before giving his quiet reply.

"We're friends of Lord Alexis, my lady."

The change was startling. It seemed as though Lady Morgan melted upon hearing the words. She ran towards them, bent forwards at the waist and reaching out with claw like hands. Her eyes seemed to shrink back in their sockets and she stared at them imploringly through wide pupils. Riff took an involuntary step backwards as she latched onto Cassian, grabbing a tight hold of his arm.

"At last!" she cried. "I've been waiting for you!"

Cassian gave a strained smile and nodded.

"Yes, I expect you have. And now..."

He trailed off in what sounded like confidence but Riff knew to be doubt. They had no idea what this woman had been told and had only to hope she would understand. Instantly, she let go of Cassian and nodded.

"I'll get it for you right away," she said breathlessly before turning and running from the room, leaving the door open behind her.

Riff let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding and looked towards Cassian who was scowling at the empty doorway.

"It's disgusting," he murmured. "He twists people around his little finger so tightly that they can't remember what shape they were to begin with."

Before Riff could ask what he meant, Lady Morgan returned clutching a large leather-bound briefcase. The outside of the case was blank but it seemed to be heavy as she was struggling carrying it in. Acting out of habit, Riff moved forward to assist her and she gratefully passed it into his hands. As she did so, she gave a deep sigh and Riff was left with the impression that the burden was more than physical. He went to move back to his previous position but was stopped by a hand clinging onto his sleeve.

"What did Lord Alexis say?" she asked, voice which had been so mellow before trembling slightly. "Where is he? When will he come here?"

Riff didn't know what to say and simply stared down at her. She grabbed the front of his shirt with her other hand, fingernails scraping through the thin material.

"Tell me what he said!" she shouted, voice cracking with emotion. "Why won't you tell me?"

Riff shook his head silently, shocked at her behaviour. The polite, mild woman from before was totally gone and it seemed as though a wraith was left in her place, a being with no desire other than to hear from one man. For a moment, Riff could understand why Cassian had used the term 'digusting'. She seemed barely human.

"Stop hiding things from me!" she screeched, raising her right hand from his sleeve and raising it as if to strike him. Riff instinctively turned his face away.

"Enough."

There was a slap as the Lady's wrist was caught deftly in Cassian's hand. Riff turned to see the taller man standing beside them, eyes blazing with cold fury. Despite her hysteria of before, the Lady shrank bank from such a look.

"Cassian..." Riff began but his words were ignored. Cassian stepped forward, putting himself in between Riff and the Lady and forcing her back a step.

"Where is Alexis?" the lady asked, eyes widening and rage faltering a little when faced with Cassian's. "Did he really send you? Who are you?"

Cassian grabbed her other wrist with firm fingers and held her hands high above her head, forcing her to look at him.

"No, he didn't send us," he said, coldness in his voice being slowly replaced by mounting anger. "He didn't send us because he died last year."

"No!" She screeched like an animal and attempted to break free from Cassian's grasp. She kicked out at him and fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. Riff watched, clutching the briefcase like a shield to his chest. The woman was insane. "He can't be dead! He promised he'd come back for me!"

"He was lying to you, you stupid woman," Cassian said angrily. "Just like he lied to everyone. You filled this room with pictures of a man who had forgotten what you looked like days after he made sure you'd never betray him."

"He loves me..."

Cassian's lips parted as though he had something to say but he remained silent, dropping one of the woman's hands to reach into an inside jacket pocket. His hand returned holding a slim knife. The woman was now kneeling on the floor, eyes downcast and sobs shaking her fragile frame. She didn't look up as the knife moved towards her throat.

"Cassian, no!"

Riff shouted before he realised what was happening and started forward. The briefcase fell to the floor unheeded as the woman looked up and screamed. The knife stopped in mid-motion as Riff grabbed Cassian's arm roughly and pulled back.

"What are you doing?"

"Setting her free," Cassian replied instantly, eyes still fixed upon the weeping woman.

"_What?_"

"No one should have to live a life devoted to that bastard," Cassian continued, voice quietening. "She's too far gone to find her way back to normal love, now. He killed her while she was still breathing. Like...like everyone else."

"Please," the woman murmured to herself. "Let me see him...let me see Alexis...please..."

Riff pulled Cassian away from her, the man now unresisting and the knife dropping to his side.

"You don't have to kill her," Riff said, voice shaking. He crouched down by the woman and took her hand. She flinched. "It's going to be okay."

"Who are you?" she asked again. "Why did you come here?"

Behind Riff, Cassian picked the briefcase up from where it had fallen and walked to the door. He paused on the threshold and turned '

"We're going, Riff."

Riff scowled, shock finally being replaced by anger. "We can't just leave her like this. It's our fault she's-"

"Then find your own way back," Cassian interrupted. He turned his dark eyes upon the woman and spoke in a voice that betrayed more sorrow than his expression. "Don't go chasing after the dead. It hurts more than letting them go."

He vanished from the doorway, leaving Riff alone with the woman. He glanced around the room, eyes sweeping over the sketches and paintings. He bit his lip and then followed, trying not to look back. He felt an aching in his chest when thinking about the woman and about the lies Alexis must have told her. Cassian had been right, it was disgusting the way the man had ruined so many lives.

"Cassian, wait!"

It didn't matter, he decided. She would be okay and even if she wasn't it wasn't his problem. He wondered if he could ever end up like her. If he had survived the fall of Delilah but Cain had perished, would he have denied the loss? After all, he had nothing else to live for, especially not now.

He caught up to Cassian just as the man was climbing into the stagecoach. Once they were inside and travelling back towards the city, Riff glanced sidelong at Cassian who was staring at the briefcase as though willing it open with his eyes alone. He seemed nervous, as though all the anger from before was now coiled somewhere inside him and seeking a new outlet. How many nights had this man spent despairing alone to make him as volatile as this?

"Don't go chasing after the dead," Riff said slowly, breaking the silence. "Isn't that just what we're doing? How are we any better than her?"

"We're not," he said quietly, "but sometimes you just can't let go."

Riff's eyes widened as Cassian lapsed back into silence. It was as though Cassian was speaking Riff's own thoughts, ones he had been trying to deny. He was still angry and a little scared about how easily Cassian had contemplated taking the woman's life and anxious that he was doing the wrong thing by assisting someone who would not make their motives clear. But he understood. It was frightening how easily the words made sense.

They remained in silence until they reached the city where the clattering of the horses hooves jolted them out of reverie. As soon as the coach stopped, Cassian jumped out and hurried away. Riff followed as fast as he was able.

"No rest for the wicked," he repeated in a whisper.

-x-

_I hear you out__  
__Till I hear myself__  
__Hear myself in you_

_-x-_

_**A/N**__ – Thanks for your time lovelies, please hit the green button and let me know what you think so far! If you feel the need for more unstable Cassian, I recently started a Kuroshitsuji crossover called Solace with mucho craziness. Oh, how I love him._

_Lyrics this time from Seek You Out also by Poets of the Fall._

_Ciao for now. x_


	3. Mile End

_**A/N **__As usual, sorry for the wait. I sat down and wrote the majority of this in one day about three weeks after I wrote the beginning so if the tone shifts, please do forgive me. I guess the ball really starts rolling in this chapter. It's nice and long (nice?XD) to make up for the wait._

_The reviews I have received for this fic so far really do mean a lot to me and give me all the inspiration I need to keep going._

_**Thanks and teacakes to**__: SunilaMoon, MorbidBirdy, Angel Wings-008, Veleda, MageryDoe, Nazgurl, __**StillReading**__ for another wonderful review and obviously _**Savvi-Sin**, _my beloved wifey whom is soon flying across the puddle to London where we shall meet up and terrify the city with out fangirling._

_-x-_

_Suddenly the lights go out _

_Let forever drag me down _

_I will fight for one last breath _

_I will fight until the end_

_-x-_

"A whole year," Riff mused, finger tracing idle patterns on the tabletop. "Was it really that long?"

Cassian sighed from the opposite side of the table and dropped the pencil he was holding for the fifth time in as many minutes. On the tabletop before him sat the briefcase, now opened, the files and sheets contained within having been spread out across the table. He was vaguely proud of himself for being so organised, having designated three stacks of paper; unsorted, useful and useless. On a notepad before him was a list of pencilled names. He had been halfway through writing a name starting with Z when Riff had interrupted him. Again.

"Yes," he said, giving the pale haired man a strained smile. "Although it felt like a lot longer."

"What did you do?" Riff asked, apparently having abandoned his usual decorum in the face of sheer boredom.

"Work," Cassian said with a shrug. "I gathered information and materials, I set this place up. It took a long time to build the machine too," he added, frowning a little at the memory of countless nights sat up reading through haphazard notes. "But not as long as it could have done, I suppose."

Riff frowned and sat up a little straighter, glancing at Cassian with a shrewdness that the latter wasn't keen on. His pale eyes shone in the candlelight.

"How did you build it?" he asked. "It's a complicated machine and you keep telling me you're not a scientist. So how did you work it out?"

"I have my sources," Cassian said guardedly, picking up the pencil again and lowering his eyes back to the list of names. "Now can you please let me get on with this?"

Riff mumbled an apology and gave a deep sigh, which only irritated Cassian more. The man had only been waiting a few hours yet had the cheek to act impatient. Cassian flicked through the next few sheets in the unsorted pile with a scowl.

"Go and do something useful, if you're bored," he snapped. "Just stop distracting me."

He felt Riff leave the table, refusing to look up until his work was done. A few minutes later, he was completely absorbed in his task and had forgotten about the other man's presence entirely. The unsorted pile gradually decreased and in comparison the 'useful' pile seemed pitifully small. He glanced down the list to see around a dozen names, all scientists who had been directly involved with making deadly dolls. Some names he recognised, some he had had never heard and one caused him to smile warmly. But there was still one missing. Cassian knew that writing that particular name down on his list would mean nothing as any information it could yield he had already acquired. But, somehow, it would be nice to see it written down again in a hand other than his own.

His silent prayer was answered as he turned over the final unsorted file. This one was several pages long and detailed. As Cassian scanned the list of aliases a nostalgic smile graced his full lips, one which turned a little sad as he surveyed the sections headed 'allies' and 'infringements.' One was too small, the other too long. He flipped over a page slowly and caught a breath when he was greeted by a small, faded photograph. He raised a finger and gently traced the face in the image.

"Is that better?"

The sudden voice snapped Cassian from his reverie and he flung the file onto the 'useless' pile as though it had burnt his fingers. He turned to face Riff and blinked in the sudden light. While he had been reading, Riff had drawn back the curtains in the room and apparently cleared the windows of as much grime as he was able. For the first time in a year, pale daylight filtered into the room and illuminated the worn furniture and dust. A dark stain on the tiles by his chair told Cassian that the container had been placed here before.

"Cassian?"

He turned around again to see Riff standing expectantly near one wall and nodded.

"Yes, much," he said, as though he hadn't been too absorbed to have not realised the change taking place. "Thanks."

"How is it going?"

Cassian leant back and raised his arms high above his head, fingers locked together, until the bones cracked.

"Well. There's about a dozen names here we need to look into. I'll draw up a list in order of priority and we'll get started tonight. You should get some sleep."

"I can help," Riff said, starting forwards. Cassian's eyes widened a fraction. The other man had seemed different since they had returned from Lady Morgan's the night previously; he was more confident and pro-active. Cassian wondered what sort of nightmares had visited Riff while he slept to inspire such sudden motivation. Regardless, he waved the offer away.

"You can help later," he said. "We could be out all night searching so rest now. I need you to be focussed when we question these men."

Riff gave a reluctant nod and left the room without another word. Cassian watched him leave, expression unusually warm. After a moment, he shook himself and tore a new piece of paper on which to make the new list. He scanned the list for a few minutes and then put pencil to paper, hurriedly writing two names.

The first, while important, could wait for now. The second was a title rather than a name; the Nine of Swords.

-x-

The city streets were wreathed in fog when the pair left Delilah's headquarters. Night had fallen quickly under the low hanging clouds and Riff buried his hands in his jacket pockets as they walked to keep out the chill.

"Where are we going?" he asked his companion, having not been awake enough to ask before when he had been suddenly summoned from bed and instructed to dress in a pile of clothes left at the end of his bed.

"St Clements," Cassian replied, breath coming as tiny puffs of steam in the cold air. Riff's eyes widened. St Clements was a mental health facility in the East End and he had carried out part of his training there as a younger man.

"Why there?" he asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

"Because that's where our target is," Cassian replied wearily. "It's not a daytrip, you know. We have got things to do."

Riff scowled but kept his voice calm. "We're going to walk all the way?"

"Of course. We could hardly hail a hansom in outfits like these."

Although he longed for what little warmth the interior of a cab could bring, Riff had to admit that Cassian made a good point. The clothes Cassian had instructed he wear were very different from the outfit of the day before. Riff was clad in fairly average garb; an off-white shirt, a beige waistcoat and dark trousers and jacket. Cassian was dressed in a similar fashion but looked even more ragged, with a coat that had frayed at the hems, battered shoes and fingerless gloves to fight the cold. They may have been worn, but the clothes fitted him well. Riff wondered whether this was an actual outfit for him, rather than a disguise. He knew better than to ask; his companion's expression was set in a purposeful mask. Riff didn't want to think about the plans being formed behind those dark eyes.

By the time they reached Mile End, the chill was biting into Riff's nerves and had rendered his fingers useless. His cheeks were numb with the cold and he felt a little like an ice statue, waiting patiently to thaw. He eyed the hospital building almost fearfully; the large, dark windows set into the worn brick walls were dark and ominous, like the pupils of some ancient beast.

"Now what?" he asked Cassian, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling. "It's long past midnight. Nothing will be open."

"Not a problem," Cassian said with an unsettling grin.

"But nobody will be here."

Cassian shook his head and raised one gloved hand to point to a window at the far end of the building. Riff followed the direction to see a flickering light moving slowly past the dark glass.

"A guard?"

Cassian shook his head and took a step towards the large double doors.

"He is now."

Riff waited for an explanation of this strange comment but was greeted with silence as Cassian produced a set of lockpicks from the bag hanging from his shoulder. Riff scanned the pavement in case someone were to see but the area was void of life other than the bobbing light inside the hospital.

"Honestly," Cassian mumbled to himself as he worked on the door. "You'd think they'd have updated the locks by now. These were already old when I was out on the streets. Just a little...wait...right."

He stood up straight again and waved Riff over. With a mock bow, Cassian smiled at his companion and pushed open one door with a gloved hand.

"After you."

The interior of St Clements was unpleasant even during the day and the darkness did little to add to the gloom and the fear in the air. Riff's footsteps sounded too loud in the quiet and he swallowed nervously, remembering his visit here as a student. Then, the wards had been filled with 'patients', more like prisoners, those deemed ill enough for confinement but not so ill as to ensure a permanent stay in an asylum.

"Do they still keep patients here overnight?" he asked absently. Cassian took a deep breath before laughing a little.

"Yeah, yeah they do. Only for one or two nights at a time though. Any longer is a drain on their precious resources, thankfully." Riff's pale eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak but was swiftly cut off. "Let's not read too much into that, okay?"

He nodded mutely and continued following Cassian through the dark corridors. For what felt like an age they walked in procession through the grey identical corridors, occasionally hearing whimpers or murmurs from locked rooms. As Riff's patience reached breaking point, Cassian flung out a hand to stop him from rounding a corner.

"Found him," the shorter man murmured with an unsettling smile. "Follow my lead."

With this, Cassian rounded the corner and stood in the centre of the corridor, arms outstretched. A greasy yellow light reflected on his pale skin. Riff remained hiding around the corner, unsure of what to do.

"Who are you?" the guard called, his mildly educated accent unusual in one of his profession. "What are you doing here?"

"Good evening!" Cassian called, grin still in place and tone unusually cheerful. "Just bear with me for a moment."

He fished in the pocket of his worn jacket and produced a small photograph which he then held out in front of him, presumably to align it with the guards face. He slowly began walking forwards, Riff taking this as his queue to slip into the shadows behind him. He could now see that the guard was a middle aged man with thinning brown hair and deep lines around his eyes. Although the uniform caused Riff's mind to insist the man was respectable, something about the way in which the man's blue eyes darted into the shadows was unsettling.

"Ah, that's wonderful," Cassian said, dropping the photo back into his pocket and advancing on the man who now stood stock still. "You haven't aged well, that's for sure, but it _is_ you. How fortunate that you haven't changed profession in all these years."

The guard advanced forwards until the yellow light from the gas lamp fully illuminated Cassian's face, leaving Riff and everything else in the shadows. The man's eyes widened and his free hand dove into his pocket. Without blinking, Cassian grabbed this arm and held it firmly before letting his fixed smile almost entirely fade.

"We were lucky to find you," he said in a low and dangerous voice, "Nine of Swords."

"Head Priest Cassandra," the man murmured, eyes wide in fear. "Why have you-"

"Idiot," Cassian hissed. "Have you really forgotten so much in a year? Do I sound like that bastard?"

Riff stood a little behind Cassian, fingers clutching the strap of the bag he had been asked to carry. It was clear that this man was the one they were looking for, although he was now confused. Why did that name sound so familiar? He knew he recognised Cassian from somewhere other than the tower but couldn't pin it down, as though there was a vital piece of the puzzle he was missing.

"An operation," Cassian stated, prising the pistol out of the man's hand and tossing it over his shoulder towards Riff. "A few months before the collapse of the Tower of Babel. You were on the cleanup team, I know you were. I don't know how you could forget. I doubt any of the other operations you were allowed to witness were screaming when they woke up."

The man finally nodded and seemed a little relieved, if haunted by the memory of something he would have rather left forgotten.

"Yes. I do remember. You're the trump card that worked with-"

"I don't need to hear my own history," Cassian interjected. "I need some information from you. About the machines you created to make the deadly dolls."

Riff was surprised as the man's face split into a smile, an expression which didn't seem to suit him.

"Do they need me?" he asked, the fear in his voice now coloured with a hint of hope. "Is there a new cardmaster?"

The air rang as Cassian struck the man backhanded.

"You really are an idiot, Nine of Swords," he hissed. "In here."

Riff watched as the man was hustled into a nearby room which turned out to be an office. He slowly approached the doorway and entered in time to see Cassian pull a chair away from the desk and force the man to sit in it. He pulled a knife from inside his jacket and held it against the jumping pulse in the man's throat.

"I might have lost my enhanced reflexes after the operation," Cassian breathed, mouth close to the man's ear. "But I'm still faster than you. Any sudden movements, and I'll slit your throat. Understand?"

The man nodded carefully, trying to move his head without pushing his neck any closer to the cold blade.

"Good man. Now, tell me about the machine."

"Why do you want to know?" he asked, words brave despite the fear in his eyes. "That sort of thing shouldn't be told to just anyone."

"You mean 'to a trump card like you', right?" Cassian said, crouching next to the chair and holding the knife steady. "Forget about the cards for now. Delilah is dead. None of it matters anymore."

"Then...I won't tell you. What you'd want with the information is beyond me."

Riff winced as Cassian hit the man, this time slamming a fist into his stomach. He felt a little nervous about approaching; Cassian was acting as he had yesterday with the woman and Riff had yet to work out what triggered the cold, unpredictable rage.

"Riffael."

The butler jumped as his name was spoken but stepped forwards automatically.

"Bring me the file."

"Of course."

Riff stepped forwards again, rummaging in the bag he was carrying as he did so. By the time he had managed to retrieve the document, he had reached the chair and raised his eyes from the bag to find he was being watched. The man's blue eyes were fixed on Riff's face and his lips fell slack in fear. Riff was taken aback and wondered how he could in any way appear more threatening than Cassian.

"The Tower," the man gasped. "But...he was meant to have died...how did you..."

So that was it. The man was mistaking him for his former self, which would explain Cassian using his full name. Although he felt a little used, Riff had to admit that the idea was clever, especially as the man now turned his eyes towards Cassian as if begging for a chance to redeem himself.

"Read me the details," Cassian commanded, watching Riff with a slight smile. Riff cleared his throat and began speaking in a voice that trembled slightly. In his fear the man appeared to not realise that he lacked the authoritative tones of the Tower.

"Nine of Swords. Real name, Edward Brown. Part of the science and research department. Was head of the engineering team for the deadly doll project. Attained his position in the organisation by stealing supplies from St Clements hospital, where he works under his real name."

He stopped reading as Cassian waved a hand vaguely in his direction and looked up to see the man slumping defeated in his chair, while Cassian smirked triumphantly.

"Time to prove you're a smart man, Ed," Cassian said in a low voice. "Now, what can you tell me about the machine?"

There was a long, silent moment in which Riff held his breath. If the man refused now, he wondered if Cassian really would kill him. There was something about Cassian's smile that set him on edge. He didn't want to be here, didn't want to threaten anyone like this. True, this man had been responsible for a lot of terrible things but his heart told him that this wasn't the way to make things right. Although, if it was the way to bring Cain back then...

"Nothing," the man said bitterly. "My memory isn't perfect. I have files though. Plans. Notes. That sort of thing."

"Good," Cassian said and started to stand up. "Now, if you'll just take us to those-"

"No need." The man reached into his jacket, ignoring the sudden suspicious narrowing of Cassian's eyes, and pulled out a sheaf of papers. He held this out towards Riff who stepped forward and took it with a frown. After reading the first page, a list of figures, amounts and directions, it was clear that these were exactly the sort of things Cassian had been looking for.

"You carry _this_ around with you?" Cassian asked incredulously. "You're even more stupid than I'd thought."

"I didn't want them falling into the wrong hands," the man protested.

"Didn't want anyone taking credit for your work, more like," Cassian said scornfully. "I know how it goes for people like you."

He didn't refute this claim and watched Riff stow the documents safely in his bag with wistful eyes.

"Can you let me go now?" he asked wearily.

"One more thing," Cassian said and fished a scrap of paper out of his pocket. Riff recognised it as the list of names he had compiled that day. "Do you know if any of these men died during the fall?"

Riff watched as the man pointed to a couple of the names and Cassian crossed them off carefully.

"What about the Hermit?" he asked, standing up and lowering the knife. The man breathed a sigh of relief.

"I don't know," he said. "The old fool vanished just after the fall. Maybe not such a fool after all."

Cassian smiled to himself and turned as if he was going to leave. Riff followed suit and went to stand near the door but turned back as the man spoke again.

"There's a name missing."

"Oh really?" Cassian asked, voice dripping with disbelief. "And that name is?"

"You should know that better than anyone." The man smirked, arrogance rearing its ugly head as he assumed the danger had passed. "The person that knew more about the dolls than anyone was Death."

"Cassian!"

Riff stood helplessly by the door as his companion launched himself at their captive, knocking the man to the floor and then pinning him to the ground using his knees and hands. Cassian's dark eyes were narrowed in anger and the knife had reappeared in his hand. He didn't look back as Riff called out.

"He had a name," Cassian breathed. "What do you know about death?"

The man fell silent but turned his eyes upon Riff who took a step back as if stricken.

"Cassian," he said quietly, remembering the day before. His words had been enough to persuade him then. "Let him up."

"No."

"He didn't mean any harm."

"I don't give a damn. He's done enough harm already. You're one of his victims, don't you see that?"

It was then that Riff realised that Cassian had never been intending to let the man go. The rage was passing, but the cold purpose in his eyes was frightening. Nothing he could say would deter the man.

"But..."

"Either shut up or leave the room. I guess I can't make you understand but I'm not going to let you stop me."

Riff bit his lip as he watched the fear in the man's eyes turn into abject terror.

"I'm sorry," he murmured and then opened the door in a rush of cool air, slamming it behind him once he was in the corridor. He couldn't save the man. If he tried to stop Cassian, he suspected the man would cut all ties with him and Cain would be left to decay. Riff closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the flood of mental images. By letting Cassian have his will, he was saving Cain's life. If he told himself that, this was bearable. He leant against the wall and tried to ignore the sounds of scuffling and muffles shouts from inside the room.

A few minutes later, Cassian swung open the door and stepped into the corridor, breathing heavily. Without looking at Riff, he shrugged off his worn jacket and held his arm out before him. A neat line had been sliced into the flesh just below his elbow and blood was flowing freely from the wound.

"Sneaky bastard," he murmured, finally catching Riff's eye. The butler looked shocked at the wound. "Who would have thought he had a knife up his sleeve?"

He quickly undid the shirt he was wearing and wrapped the thin material around his arm to staunch the bleeding before slipping the jacket back on.

"Let's go," he said, turning and beginning to walk towards the exit. Riff followed and quickly spoke up, just as Cassian had been expecting.

"You didn't have to kill him."

"He was a pathetic excuse for a human being," Cassian said simply. "I remember him. He would throw his weight around while never really helping out. When he stole supplies from this place, countless patients suffered from lack of provisions. Back in HQ, he'd be the first to take on any research that involved torture. Is this painting you a picture or am I wasting my time?"

Riff remained silent. For a few moments, the only sound was the echo of their footsteps off of the grey walls. As they pushed open the doors and were enveloped in the chill air of a city night, Cassian spoke again.

"We have to kill, Riff. There's a price to pay for taking a life but bringing a life back that has already been lost is something much more sinful. You're going to have to accept that."

Without waiting for a response, he set off into the darkness. Riff shoved his hands back in his pockets and followed. It was a long walk back to Delilah's headquarters. He needed the time to clear his head.

-x-

Shut in the room he had commandeered as his own, Cassian lay sprawled on his bed with a sheaf of paper clutched in one hand and a photograph in the other. He shouldn't have taken the file away from the others, he knew that. He also knew that reading it wasn't going to do him any good. He just hadn't been able to help himself.

A soft smile graced his handsome features as he read the words he could almost recite and he seemed younger somehow, the man he always should have been. The flickering light cast by the candle made it easy to imagine that this room wasn't as worn as it really was and that it was the same as it had been two years previously. Cassian had laid on this bed then, awake, eyes staring at the ceiling. He had been wondering why, why he was acting so obediently and where his once passionate hatred had disappeared to. In its place, had had felt anxiety and desperation, an aching that had never faded and grown stronger with time.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the darkness. "I was too late."

He sat up suddenly, dropping the items on the bed. The shadows seemed suddenly menacing and he could feel blood on his hands. It had been a mistake, allowing himself to think about the past. The present was terrifying, the future uncertain, but the past could swallow him whole. With a sigh and a rueful shake of his head, Cassian bent to retrieve the files.

Riff sat at the table in the main room, holding candelabra nervously in one hand. He scanned the file before him again, still hesitant to believe what he was reading. He hadn't been able to sleep as curiosity had been eating at him so the butler had given in to his urges and crept out to find Cassian's file. He'd been met by a photograph of a young boy clad in black. He remembered the boy, had encountered him in Maria Stanford's garden. Next he had unfolded a number of medical diagrams. If he hadn't been taught that such a thing was impossible, he would have thought the diagrams showed a brain transplant.

Now, he flicked over the sheet of paper and read the basic information.

"Real name, Cassian," he read aloud. "Surname unknown. Suffers from a growth defect. Attached to the science and research department as assistant to Major Arcana: Death. Attained this position by showing promise when recruited but this attitude has faded with time. Allies, Death, The Hermit. Infringements, aiding Death with infringements, see file...abandoning the organisation after undergoing an operation, therefore depriving the organisation of vital research data. Top priority to be recovered."

Riff stopped speaking, eyes wide. Cassian had left Delilah and had been on the run? So why had he been there in the tower?

"Are you finished?"

Riff spun around to see Cassian approaching, holding another file in one hand. The butler quickly slipped Cassian's file back into the pile he had taken it from, for all the good it would do.

"What are you doing?"

"I just..." Riff sighed and shrugged. "I wanted to know if you..."

"What?" Cassian snapped, slamming the file he had been carrying down on the table and levelling angry eyes at Riff. "What the hell is it that you think you have a right to know?"

"I wanted to know if you had any..." Riff stopped, biting his lip before continuing. "Any instabilities. After what you said earlier about St Clements, I was wondering if maybe I could..."

"Help? Don't make me laugh, Riff." Cassian sat heavily at the desk. "You're a butler and an average doctor. You didn't find an answer in there?"

"It didn't say anything about mental illnesses."

"No, it wouldn't have. That'd because I was sent to that place after the fall of Delilah. Don't even think of asking why, you're not that stupid. You were there. You were there when my whole fucking world turned against me."

Riff blinked, unsure what to say. It was true, he had heard the pain in Cassian's voice then. He wondered what it must have been like, leaving the tower clutching a corpse. Hell had been on earth outside. While Riff had watched his own world end, the outside world had been swallowed in flames. For an instant, Riff felt sorrier for Cassian than he had ever felt for himself. It was simply unimaginable.

"Anything else?"

The question was sharp. Riff knew better than to express his pity but realised he was required to say something.

"You were the boy in the garden."

Cassian laughed softly. "Well done. Yes, I was. Well, you're two thirds correct. I was in the garden. I haven't been a boy for a long time."

"It said you had a growth defect."

"That'd be correct. I'm older than you."

"But how did you end up like this? You don't look anything like you did then."

Cassian laughed again and shot Riff an amused glance.

"Yeah, well, you look like a dim-witted oaf and turned out to be a walking corpse with a heart of stone. Don't go lecturing me on appearances. The past doesn't mean a damn thing. Don't think about it anymore. I don't."

He stood and clapped Riff on the shoulder before walking back towards the door, anger having been replaced with weariness.

"Get some rest," he called. "We're leaving early tomorrow. I'll have clothes ready for you by six."

"Where are we going?"

Cassian smiled into the darkness before him and waved goodnight over his shoulder.

"To see an old friend."

_-x-_

_Still it don't matter  
If you won't listen  
If you won't let them follow you_

_You just need to heal  
Make good all your lies  
Move on and don't look behind_

_-x-_

_**A/N**__: Lyrics this time from Dear Agony by Breaking Benjamin and Sleep by Poets of the Fall. St Clements was an active mental hospital in Mile End during the Victorian era although any details I provided were improvised. I did look it up on google images. xD_

_Thanks for your time, please hit the green review button! I'll love you eternally._


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